


Aftercare

by Strideshitt



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Masochism, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9145480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strideshitt/pseuds/Strideshitt
Summary: It isn't always rough.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Why choose between rough or soft Glanni and Íþro when we can have both

It's always hard and rough during, slaps and close fists and nails againdt every inch of Glanni's body. It always hurts, leaves him sore and bruised for days. The criminal couldn't imagine it being anything other than what it already was. Harsh. Intense. 

Perfect. 

Afterwards though was always tender. Loving. Sweet. The thought of it always made Glanni want to gag, even if he found himself craving it. Íþróttaálfurinn was a stern and hard man. He knew what he wanted and expected nothing less. He was known to push people to their breaking points, and sometimes even further. It's just the way he was. He had his good moments though, when he was nice, soft. Like now. Like he always was when they were finished.

Glanni winced as the sports elf traced a soft finger over a fresh bruise. His whole body was sore, an ache he had come to love and almost desire. Íþróttaálfurinn ran fingers over his naked body, eyes slowly following wherever his fingers trailed. 

"You did good, Glæpur." The comment comes out offhandedly and Glanni wants to roll his eyes. 

"Sure, and you're not so bad yourself." The criminal bites back with sarcasm. 

"You look nice like this." 

A huff escapes Glanni, comes out short and soft from lips tugged in a partial smile. "Of course, I always look good." 

"Mhm." Íþróttaálfurinn hums softly, hand running along the other mans side. "You look better like this though. Covered in my marks..." 

"Slow down casanova." Glanni smirks, but the comments are appreciated. He loves being complimented, loves all forms of attention. Íþróttaálfurinn knows this. He learned before they ever got this far, knew the moment he had seen Glanni's flashy appearance and eye catching outfits. 

Íþróttaálfurinn rolls his eyes at the behavior of the criminal and then leans forward, planting a kiss on the mans neck where a dark set of bruises in the shape of a hand are already beginning to form. 

Glanni grins up at the elf once he pulls away, his smile toothy. "So, same time next week?" 

Íþróttaálfurinn nods curtly, tenderness gone. "Don't be late next time." 

Glanni's grin almost doubles in size. "Or what, you'll punish me?" He wiggles his hips suggestively. 

"Something like that." 

"Hm." Glanni hums, eyes half lidded. "It's a date then."


End file.
